


the body sleeping next to me

by queerabacus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Ghost!Castiel, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, It Gets Better, M/M, Pining Dean, Post 12x23, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, can be seen as start of season 13, spoilers for season 12 in tags!, vaguely inspired by 'flight'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:11:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerabacus/pseuds/queerabacus
Summary: He's not dead.He's not.It's a mantra Dean chants as they drive back to the bunker, Cas' body in the backseat. He doesn't look at Sam's pitiful eyes, doesn't look at anything except Cas' paling face in his hands.But just as he's believing Cas is gone for good - the impossible happens.





	1. i

“You’re not dead.” The words slipped out of his mouth. He didn’t know where they came from. He didn’t know anything anymore.

 

Cas _wasn’t_ dead. No way. They’d just found each other again.

 

Dean reached out a shaking hand and put it against Cas’ face. It slipped down to his throat to find a pulse. There had to be a pulse.

 

Something deep in his chest shattered when he couldn’t feel anything except the heat leaving Cas’ body.

 

“You’re not dead. You’re not, Cas. Stop pretending, Lucifer’s gone you can stop now.” Because Cas had lit up for show, hadn’t he? He was smart like that. Pretending. That’s all this was, pretending to be still.

 

Dean shook Cas’ shoulder. “C’mon, gigs up. I know you’re just messing with me.” His throat turned to a dry desert when Cas’ head lolled into his lap with no response.

 

“Cas,” He croaked out, fear rising in his chest. He clasped Cas’ head in his hands again. “Stop it. You’re scaring me.”

 

_Just wake up. Stop pretending._

 

He stared at Cas’ face, waiting for those eyelids to flutter open so he could look Cas in the eyes again. So they could get going, start working together again. So he could tell him not to do this ever again.

 

_Just wake up._

 

But Cas’ eyelids were shut firmly. His skin cooler than the air around them. A thought was pushing at Dean’s head, but even knowing it was there was making his brain sear in agony.

This might not be pretense.

 

_Wake. Up._

 

Footsteps approached, and Dean shoved that thought way down.

 

“Oh God, Cas…” Sam said in this dumb voice like he’d lost something. They hadn’t lost anything. Cas wasn’t dead. Sam crouched down beside them, taking Cas’ hand that had been lying against his stomach. “He’s ice cold…”

 

“It’s just the wind, Sammy. It’s cold tonight that’s all.” Dean murmured, feeling Sam’s eyes on him. He didn’t want to meet that gaze, knew what he would see there. Instead he looked down at Cas’ shirt, where there was a perfect rip in the shirt, red seeping out of it steadily.

 

Suddenly Dean felt immensely stupid. “Sam - He’s still bleeding! Get bandages!” He might be yelling, he couldn’t tell. He pushed at Sam’s shoulder, but his brother didn’t move. “What are you waiting for? Go get them!”

 

“Dean …” Sam looked lost for words, his mouth floundering. He knew that face. The ‘ _I’m sorry for your loss_ ’ face.

 

“Don’t you dare say it-”

 

“There’s no point.” Sam’s voice cracked. “He’s dead.”

 

The world could’ve crashed down around Dean and he wouldn’t have noticed. His had ended right then.

 

Whatever was left of his strength left him, and he collapsed sideways onto the ground next to Cas’ body. The dark ground was cold, but warmer than Cas hand in his. Dark spots in his vision were blocking out the sight of Cas face next to his on the soil. Somewhere there was a worried sounding vibration. Sam? Maybe - it didn’t matter.

 

Cas wasn’t waking up.

 

-

 

Dean had collapsed next to Cas’ body, and Sam hauled both their bodies into the Impala. He waited for Dean to come back to consciousness, gave him some water, then got into the drivers’ seat.

 

Sam didn’t know what to do, except drive. So that’s what he did.

 

He drove, with Dean cradling Cas’ paled face in the backseat along dark empty streets for miles, his mind blank.

 

What did they do now? What _could_ they do? He took a glance into the rear view mirror. More accurately, what could _he_ do. He doubted Dean would be able to function for a while.

 

“What happened to uh, Lucifer junior?” Dean asked steadily from the back seat, surprising Sam. He tried not to let the surprise show, and kept his eyes level with Dean’s in the mirror. He didn’t look like he’d been crying but … that would come later. After the drinking. He hadn’t expected Dean to want to communicate with anyone. Not after … his eyes drifted to Cas’ body again. Not after that.

 

“Ran upstairs to find Kelly dead and some foot prints leaving the room. There was a nursery or something, and ‘Jack’ was in there. Fully formed.” Sam didn’t mention the other stuff. The fact the footprint had been bloody. The yellow eyes.

 

Dean nodded, considering. “He pulled an Amara? Super-growth or whatever?” His hands still hadn’t left Cas’ face.

 

“Something like that.” Sam agreed easily. His eyes flickered from the road back to the mirror. “You seem … calm. Considering.” Sam spoke lowly. He didn’t want to send Dean into a tailspin but this level of casualness over his best friends’ dead body was … concerning.

 

“Yeah well,” Dean shrugged gently, looking down and running a hand through Cas’ hair fondly. “We gotta focus on something until this guy wakes up.”

 

Ah. That’s why. _Dean ‘denial’ Winchester._

 

Sam bit his lip, debating whether to say anything. How deep in denial was Dean over this? “What do you think we should do with the body?” He tested gently.

 

“Put him in his room.”

 

“Wouldn’t … wouldn’t it be better to put him outside. In nature?”

 

Dean let out a small laugh, frowning. “What, you don’t want him to wake up in bed or something?”

 

The laugh scraped along Sam’s brain and he felt sick. Dean was laughing about this, like it was certain Cas would wake up. But Sam saw Cas’ grace leave him, they both had. Cas was gone - but Dean was acting like he was taking a nap. Swallowing back his sudden nausea, Sam didn’t respond.

 

He reached for the tape player, wanting to drown out those thoughts. The Rain Song started playing by Led Zeppelin. It washed over Sam and took him out of the moment.

 

“Turn it off.” Dean said gruffly from behind him.

 

“Wha-”

 

“Turn it _off_ , Sammy.”

 

Sam switched it off.

 

-

 

Arriving in silence, Sam parked the Impala in the garage.

 

They’d seen people die before, it came with the life. And of course it hurt them every time. But they understood that they were dead. When Charlie died, Dean had understood that. Had carried her body to the pyre, mourned, and moved on.

 

This was different. And Sam has an idea of why, not that he’d ever bring it up with Dean.

 

Seeing that Dean was trying to get Cas’ body out of the backseat, Sam walked over to help.

 

“Here, let me -” A hand smacked down on his, and Sam backed off at the fierce look Dean gave him.

 

“No. Let me do this.” Dean demanded firmly, then his stance softened. “He’d probably freak out to find you carrying him. Too much altitude.” The smirk he gave Sam was thin, but enough for Sam to smile back, his heart breaking every second.

 

Dean gathered Cas gently in his arms, his dark head of hair resting on Dean’s shoulder. Sam felt tears prick at his eyes with no warning. _He looks like he’s sleeping._

 

With blurry vision, he watches Dean carry Cas into the bunker bridal-style. That’s when he decided.

 

Sure, this job meant deaths. But not _this_ death.

 

Because Cas’ death? Would be the death of Dean as well.

 

Sam wasn’t going to let that happen.

 

-

 

Cas’ body was stiffer now, less flexible. His hand didn’t curl into Dean’s anymore.

 

Slowly, he lowered Cas down onto his bed and smiled sadly at the sight.

 

“Sam wanted to put you outside, can you believe that?” He huffed, pushing some strands of hair from Cas’ forehead where they had been flattened against his shoulder. “The nerve of that dude.”

 

No response.

 

It was alright though, because sometimes Cas got quiet like that. He’d talk later.

 

 _Later._ The word made Dean’s knees weaken and he sat heavily down next to Cas body. He felt sick as the body rolled towards him. There had to be a ‘later’, there had to. Otherwise Dean didn’t know what to do with himself.

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

“I know you’re in there, Cas. I know you can hear me.” His voice seemed loud in the silent room. A room that usually played a show on Cas’ TV, or some music on the radio. Or the quiet conversations they shared sometimes. Cas read out loud a few nights, to himself or to the brothers when they were around.

 

_I miss your voice._

 

“Just letting you know, I’ll do what I can to get you to wake up. Sammy too.” He poked Cas’ shoulder with a small smirk. “Can’t go napping on us just yet.” The smirk faded into nothing when his finger met a stiff shoulder. Cas’ eyelids didn’t even flicker.

 

_I miss your eyes._

 

“Hey listen - just for a bit of payback, I’m going to sit right over there,” He gestured to the sofa in the room, a few feet from the bed. “And watch over you. Until you wake up. That cool, buddy?”

 

No response.

 

_I miss you._

 

_Wake up._

 

“Alright. Sleep well, Cas. See you in the mornin’.” He hesitated. Gently, he left a small peck on Cas’ forehead. He stayed there a moment with his eyes shut - and didn’t see the light flickering around Cas as he did so.

 

The light had faded by the time Dean sat back up.

 

Dean fell asleep on the sofa staring at the dark outline of Cas until his eyes slammed shut, powering his body down for the night.

 

_You’re not dead._

 

_-_

 

**In the veil.**

 

_Have faith, Dean._

 

 _I_ _’m not dead._


	2. ii

When Dean walks into the kitchen at midday, Cas is making coffee at the breakfast bar with his shirt sleeves rolled up. Dean comes to a screeching halt at the door frame.

 

“Ca-?” Before he had even finished saying his name, the vision of Cas dissipates. Sighing heavily, Dean leans on the door frame. _That’s the third time today_.

 

It seemed that wherever Dean had the strongest memories of Cas, he started to appear.

 

He screws his eyes up and tries to pull himself together, scrubbing a hand down his face. He takes a step towards the machine but falters. It feels wrong. Cas had always the one up who would make coffee for the Winchesters. Dean would say _mornin’ sunshine_ and Cas would glare at him, before handing him a cup made especially for Dean. Black, no sugar. The way he liked it.

 

The question of whether he should bring up these Cas visions with Sam or not had been racketing in his brain ever since the morning. He’d woken up on the sofa in Cas’ room, freezing with an ice cold pressure resting on his leg. When he’d turned towards the other end of the sofa, Cas’ face had flickered before him and his hand on Dean’s leg tightened. It looked like he’d been mouthing something, but Dean couldn’t for the life of him understand what words he'd been trying to make.

 

“Cas!” Dean had exclaimed, scrambling to sit up - but Cas had vanished. Dean had stared unseeingly at Cas’ still body on the bed and had dropped his head. It'd taken a while to leave the room after that, a part of him clinging to the hope that Cas would come back.

 

He turns away from the coffee machine - suddenly his desire for caffeine had been overtaken by a sour taste in his mouth.

 

-

 

To say Sam was worried about Dean was an understatement.

 

That morning he’d gone to Dean’s room to wake him up, and hadn’t been surprised to find his brother in Cas’ room instead. He’d hesitated at the door, seeing Dean with his head bowed in his hands. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

 

Over a quiet breakfast of clinking spoons and mugs, Sam had tried to breach the topic of Cas’ body again.

 

“We have to move his body-”

 

“Sammy, stop it. He’s not going anywhere.”

 

Sam had closed his eyes in frustration. He wanted to save Cas, of course he did, but they had to be realistic. There was a decaying body, and they didn’t know how long it would take to find a cure. Cas might be nothing but a skeleton by the time they find it.

 

Denial, Sam had been expecting. Maybe not quite as strong as Dean was showing, but he’d expected it. This though? The heavy cloud of grief and mourning around his brother? Insisting that Cas would wake up? He was beginning to question whether Dean would be the same again.

 

Soon, his worry reaches it’s peak. He’s sitting in the library, a spread of lore books on angels, grace and vessels covering the entire table, darting between each one - Sam had buried himself in work the moment he’d decided that Cas wasn’t going to stay dead - with Dean pacing around the bunker. Sam feels like he’s just found something promising about grace, when Dean freezes in place.

 

Curious, Sam looks up. And Dean’s face … it was a mess. His eyes were wide and red, his mouth hanging open slightly, staring at something near the stairs. They looked pinned there, like he couldn’t look away. Sam swings his gaze around, but just sees an empty stairway. There’s a sudden scraping sound as Dean falls into the chair opposite him, as if his legs had given way.

 

“Dean? What’s going on?” Sam presses as Dean buries his head in his hands again. “Talk to me.”

 

“I … I feel like I’m seeing him.” His eyes haven’t left the spot in the room. His voice is dry and cracks when he talks. “He’s right over there, Sammy.” There’s no one except them in the room. Sam watches Dean instead. Watches as Dean blinks, his eyes going more distant and losing what little brightness they’d caught from seeing this vision of Cas.

 

“Is he still there?” Sam asks, looking towards the stairs again, but Dean’s shaking his head.

 

“No. He flickered out.” Dean sighs heavily, propping his head on one hand, an elbow resting on one of the large tomes. The defeat in his brothers’ eyes, makes Sam pause in telling him about the progress in research.

 

Instead he walks over to the decanter, and pours out two glasses of scotch for them. He drops one by Dean’s hand, and falls back into his chair with the other. Settling back, he waits for the alcohol to speak for Dean. He doesn’t have to wait long.

 

“Everyone’s been taken from us, man. Finally get us all in one room and it’s like - like we repel each other or something.” Dean laughs mirthlessly into his drink. “Repel each other so hard we fall into other dimensions.”

 

Sam snorts, “Not even going to touch that one with a ten foot pole.” And takes a large swing of his own scotch. He places the empty glass down, tensing slightly. “I get it, Dean. I really do. It feels so … unfair, unjust. Like the people who mean the most to us and deserved it the least got snatched up … like, ah, Eileen.” Sam had been wrong.

 

The alcohol hadn’t made it any easier to talk about her.

 

He misses her. _God_ , does he _miss_ her. He misses her bluntness, he misses her late night texts he’d get when one or both of them couldn’t sleep. It hurts to think her name. It’s a reverent sounding echo in his brain - Eileen. _You didn’t deserve that_ . They were on the edge of … _something_ before it came shattering apart in the form of a still body in a morgue.

 

In that respect he understood Dean’s type of grief. He wanted to believe from Jody’s phone call all the way to the morgue that she wasn’t dead. Even when her body was there, he still couldn’t quite believe it - still didn’t really, even if logically he knew.

 

“Well,” Dean clears his throat, blessedly interrupting his thought, raising his glass in a toast. “Here’s to hoping that Cas and Eileen are kickin’ ass somewhere in - well. I’d say Heaven, but it’s too good for them.”

 

“Here’s to hoping.” Sam echoes, knocking his glass against Deans’.

 

-

 

Leaving Sam to his research, Dean can feel the alcohol shaking loose more … unpleasant thoughts and the itching in his hands starts to grow. Something was going to break, unless he gave them something to fix. Luckily (or unluckily) the Impala hadn’t had a tuning for a while so with a goal in mind, he heads towards the garage.

 

Cas’ room is on the way. He hesitates at the door.

 

He glances over his shoulder but he’s sure Sam’s deep enough in research that he won’t notice. Dean slips in through the half-open door into the dark room, working by the light from the hallway. If he turned the light on … it’d be like turning his light off. Instead, he makes his way to Cas’ side.

 

“Hey buddy, um.” Dean reaches out, turning the inside of Cas’ jacket out slightly. He tries to swallow the nausea he feels from brushing over the stiff chest of his friend. It should be breathing and moving, like any living being should. “Just going to borrow this. Give it back soon, promise.” The nausea rises. _I need to get out of here_. He fumbles for the mixtape in Cas’ pocket, and darts out of the room.

 

Out in the corridor, he flattens his back to the wall and takes in deep gasping breaths. They do virtually nothing to stop the ache in his chest from consuming him. His fists are clenched so tight that the hard cassette case starts cutting into his hand. Hissing, he unclenches and stalks towards the garage.

 

He grabs the first tool box he can see, slams it on the ground near the Impala and rests a hand on her top for a moment. _Breathe, breathe, don’t forget how to fucking breathe._

 

It takes a while before he feels steady enough to move on. He pops the mixtape in the Impala’s tape deck, before moving underneath the Impala to start tuning her up slightly. The past couple weeks of driving couldn’t have been good for her.

 

_And at least I can do something to save her._

 

His mouth turns into an ugly sneer at that. Angry and upset, he tries to fix what he can. It’s when _Thank You_ starts playing that Dean realises he’s been working on Baby for a while and there’s not a lot more for him to do. Now that he’s less intent on the Impala, the lyrics start drifting into his head.

 

_My love is strong, with you there is no wrong, together we shall go until we die._

 

Dean lets the dirty oil rag fall to his chest.

 

_I wish I could go with you, Cas._

 

_Thanks to you it will be done, for you to me are the only one._

 

He pushes the heel of his palms in his eyes. _Dammit. I shouldn’t have made this fucking mixtape._ The ache comes back, stronger this time. _Breathe_.

 

Dean makes to pick up the rag again, when suddenly the volume turns up so loud that he nearly slams his head into the base of the Impala in fright.

 

His heart stops in his chest for a second, before he chucks the rag aside in frustration. Sam did this sometimes - sneaking into the garage when Dean was distracted, and pumps the music up so loud that Dean freaks out over it. But why on _earth_ Sam would do it _now_ of all times was beyond him.

 

“What the _hell_ Sam?” He yells, pushing himself out from under the Impala in rage. “I’m not in the fucking mood for-”

 

Cas is in the Impala.

 

Dean throws himself into the seat beside him in awe. The vision is sharper this time, and Dean can see all sorts of emotions play out on Cas’ face.

 

He’s so caught up in looking at him he doesn’t notice Cas is trying to speak. Dean stops looking at his eyes and focuses more on his lips.

 

“Cas - what - I can’t hear you.” It pains Dean to see the hopeful look leave Cas’ eyes. _He’s here. Oh my God, he’s here._ Cas starts looking around the Impala, and Dean can’t help words pouring from his mouth. “I thought I saw you earlier. In our - your room. In the kitchen. Was that you?”

 

Cas nods vigorously, and Dean feels all his grief fall off in waves.

 

“It’s really you? You’re here?”

 

Cas stops his search, and looks directly at Dean. His heart aches again - but for an entirely different reason this time. Cas nods once, tightly, and reaches a hand out to rest it against Dean’s. He feels nothing but the hairs on his hand rise up in response.

 

“Why can’t I hear you?” Dean asks. Cas frowns, then reaches a hand towards the tape desk. It starts skipping songs. Dean takes a moment to recognise the tune, but when he does he laughs.

 

“ _Communication breakdown?_ ” He laughs, smiling widely at Cas who ducks his head with a smile of his own. Maybe he’s finally lost it. Sitting in Baby, laughing over a mixtape he made for Cas with this vision of him. He wants to believe Cas is here for real, he really does. He must go distant, because more cold pressure settles on his hand.

 

Another song plays. “Yeah. I guess I am a little ‘ _dazed and confused_ ’. How are you even here right now?” The mixtape scratches as it’s turned backwards and forwards for a song. Dean misses the beginning of it, caught up in looking at Cas frowning at the tape desk with one hand on his.

 

“ _Houses of the holy_? So … angel related?” Cas nods eagerly, his shoulders dropping slightly. As they drop, Dean sees them flicker slightly and panic starts to set in. “Wait, are you on a time limit with this stuff? You faded out pretty quickly this morning.”

 

Cas grits his teeth a little, and Dean feels the spike of panic rise as the image gets more distorted. “Cas!” His shout makes Cas look over, and he sees the same panic reflected in the blue of his eyes. Between one blink and the next, Cas is gone. “Dammit!”

 

He scrambles out of the car, then freezes. _Should I wait for him to get back or find Sam?_ Compromising, he turns the stereo in the Impala way up before racing to the war room. He startles Sam pretty bad, as he trips over himself getting to him.

 

“Sam - he’s talking. He’s here. I’m not imaging it. He isn’t a vision!”

 

“Woah, Dean, slow down! What happened?”

 

In his excitement, Dean starts pacing. “I was working in the Impala and-and I thought you came in to mess with me by turning the Impala’s radio on - nearly brained myself on Baby - but then our Zepp mixtape started playin’ and it was _Cas_.”

 

Sam looks skeptical, his eyebrows high on his forehead. “So … you’re telling me that Cas talked to you through a Led Zeppelin mixtape?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Sam’s eyes turned pitiful, and he sat more forwards in his chair. _Oh, I hate that look_. Dean recoils.

 

“Dean, I know you’re upset but -”

 

“Dammit Sammy! I know when I’m having visions and what’s Cas. He was there!”

 

Sam has those therapist eyes on, so Dean rolls his. “If you don’t believe me, come to the Impala. Be quick, I don’t know how long he’ll hang around for this time.”

 

-

 

Dean’s lost it. Sam’s pretty sure at this point.

 

It’s so clear in his head what’s going to happen. They’re going to sit in the Impala, listening to the Led Zeppelin mixtape expecting _what_ , he’s not sure, and his heart is going to break when nothing happens. When the eager look on Dean’s face fades back into bleakness.

 

And for the first five minutes of sitting in the Impala, that’s exactly what happens. Dean leans eagerly towards the stereo with these bright eyes, and Sam sits beside him, listening for … something.

 

“Hey, try sitting in the backseat.” Dean suggests, looking back and forth between Sam and the radio.

 

“What, why?”

 

“When Cas was here the first time, he was sittin’ there. Maybe he needs to be close to the radio to communicate …” Sam doesn’t want to tell Dean that sitting in the backseat won’t make a difference, but goes to sit there anyway. He wonders how long he’ll let Dean indulge in these fantasies before he intervenes, for both their sakes.

 

Sam’s about to open his mouth to break the silence, when two things happen at once. There’s a burst of static, and Dean turns excitedly to the passenger seat.

 

“Cas!” Dean spins around to Sam, and points at the seat beside him.“He’s here! Can you see him?” It’s still empty. At that moment, Sam’s head starts hurting. On one hand he wants to brush it off that Dean just heard a burst of static then reacted - but he can’t deny that Dean’s reaction and the static happened at the same time. And if this meant that Cas was still hanging about, maybe he could come back?

 

“I can’t see him,” Sam says honestly, to Dean’s disappointment. “But something happened with the stereo for sure.” He couldn’t help but feel guilty. If they were wrong, they had got both their hopes up for no reason.

 

“Really?” Dean frowns, looking the empty space up and down in question. “I can see him just fine. Why can’t he see you?” He directs the question where ‘Cas’ is sitting.

 

Then something bizarre happens, that makes Sam’s eyes widen. The mixtape starts to change with nobody touching it.

 

“What the hell-”

 

“Shh, be quiet.” Dean orders, turning the volume up. The tape cycles through, breaking at long and short parts - Sam can see the sentence forming.

 

“ _Talk talk, talk, talk … not …. right now._ ” Sam repeats.

 

“Fine, we’ll talk about it later. Where are you?” Dean presses.

 

There’s nothing for a few moments, and Sam leans forwards. “What’s going on, did he leave?”

 

“I forgot you can’t see him. He’s still here but he’s searching for something.”

 

“Maybe we’re asking too big questions?” Sam puts forwards. “I mean, he could be anywhere right now, and I doubt Robert Plant thought to put _that_ on his album he made as a backtrack to make love to-” Sam frowns, a realisation coming over him. “Hey, where did this mix come from anyway? I haven’t heard it before.”

 

Dean shifts in his seat slightly, clearing his throat. “I - um.” He casts a glance over at the passenger seat. “I made it for Cas.”

 

 _Oh._ Sam raises his eyebrows. Going with his last implication … yeah, alright that was a discussion for another time.

 

Luckily that conversation is interrupted with a burst of static again, a new sentence forming.

 

“ _...within the glow..._ ”

 

“The glow?” Sam shares a glance with Dean. “I’m guessing you can’t give more than that, huh.”

 

“Are you alright? You’re not in pain or anything?” Dean asks, like he can’t bear a moment more of silence. Sam’s surprised when a whole verse plays.

 

“ _Ain't no time for hesitatin' … I just found a cure. It's a thing you gotta do …_ ”

 

“Did it get stuc-”

 

“ _Now listen_ -”

 

“Hold up, Cas, I’ll get some paper to write this down.” Dean blurts out, running quickly from the Impala. Left alone with the static buzzing, Sam turns towards the passenger seat. He really can’t see anything, not even a small glow.

 

“You really there, Cas?”

 

“ _.... yes…._ ”

 

Sam can’t help the bright smile that splits over his face. “Damn, that is good to hear.” A thought passes, and he looks to see if Dean’s come back yet. Alone with Cas, and Cas was around the dead … he licks his lips, and asks nervously. “Wherever you are... is Eileen there as well? Is she dead?”

 

The static flutters, finding it’s place.

 

“ _.... no …. me only._ ”

 

Sam presses his face into the back of the front seat, letting out a breath he feels he’s been holding for weeks. “I had my doubt about her on that table. It seemed so fake. And with the letter?” He shakes his head, the first real spark of hope starting to form. They haven’t lost everything. Eileen was still _alive_ and Cas could communicate with them.

 

“Hopefully we’ll be able to talk through more than a mixtape soon.” A cool pressure rests on his shoulder, and Sam nearly jumps back from the contact. But it’s Cas. Just Cas.

 

Static starts to spike, and Dean races back to the Impala. “No -” He shouts, throwing himself down into the car, a hand reaching out for Cas. “No!” The static stops, and Sam feels the pressure on his shoulder vanish.

 

He knows as well as Dean does - it’s just them again.

 

-

Sam stops waiting in the Impala for Cas to come back about half an hour in. He begs off, telling Dean that he could be researching whatever the hell ‘ _the glow_ ’ is, which Dean readily accepts as an excuse.

 

Dean joins him a while later, a cloud of disappointment over him but Sam could feel the underlying happiness pouring out of him.

 

“No luck?” He asks, even though he’s pretty sure.

 

“Yeah, no sign of him.” Dean says, dropping into the chair opposite. “I wonder why his strongest connection has been the Impala so far.”

 

“Maybe it’s to the mixtape.” Sam tests, waiting a moment to look up at Dean. He’s not disappointed, and smirks as he watches his brother squirm.

 

“That’s uh, not what it -”

 

They’re interrupted by the bunker door opening.

 

Only a few people have access into the bunker and all of them - barring Cas - were dead.

 

On high alert, Sam and Dean grab guns from their holsters and slide silently out of their chairs. They pace forwards towards the stairwell and wait for the figure to come into view.

 

Dean drops his gun slightly, and Sam drops his completely.

 

There’s no way. No way the Winchesters’ luck can turn around like that. It can’t be real but -

 

“ _Eileen!?_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LIKE HECK I WAS GOING TO LET HER DIE LMAO  
> thanks for all your lovely comments on the last chapter! i really hope that this matches your expectations - and yes, all will be revealed next chapter ;)
> 
> fun fact: there was actually a lot from this chapter i moved to the last chapter so ... the /reunion is happening/


	3. iii

Sam’s gun clatters to the floor and he’s across the bunker in an instant, leaning down to sweep Eileen into a hug.

 

She laughs, her arms tight around his neck. “Miss me?” She smiles into Sam’s shoulder.

 

“So much.” He breathes back, his eyes clenched and just living in this moment. Eileen was here, in his arms, _alive_ and - he pulls back to look at her face. “Are- are you hurt?”

 

Eileen winces a little. “You’re squeezing me a bit tightly.”

 

“Oh - oh! Sorry!” Instantly Sam lets go and doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Flustered, he runs them through his hair and then lands them on his hips. “It’s - wow. It’s really good to see you.” His smile is actually starting to hurt his cheeks but he can’t for the life of him make it go away. He doesn’t want it to.

 

“Eileen, hey, it’s good to see you girl.” Dean grins, coming round to hug Eileen as well. Less eagerly, and Sam can see he put a silver ring on. He feels a bubble of annoyance that his brother would even feel the need to test Eileen.

 

“Dude, it’s Eileen. You don’t need to prod her with silver and stuff-”

 

“It’s fine Sam,” Eileen calms him quickly, a hand on his arm. She gives Dean an appreciative smile. “I’d have done the same.” Sam’s trying not to show that he’s freaking out like a teenager that a pretty girl he likes is touching him, but can see Dean is smirking at him all the same.

 

“Do you want to do anymore tests, or can I get a beer?” Eileen teases, raising her eyebrows at both of the brothers.

 

“I’ll do a two in one,” Dean says, reaching into their fridge to get a beer. He tears off the cap, pouring some holy water into the bottle. Sam trails behind Eileen, finding it kind of hard not to stare. When they reach Dean, his brother gives him a sharp jab in his ribs. “Stop staring Sam, it’s creepy.”

 

“I’m sorry - just - how?” He watches as Eileen takes a sip with, thankfully, no reaction except a wince at the sharp taste.

 

“How what?” Eileen asks, frowning.

 

“You were dead. We saw your body.” Sam states slowly, trying to figure out what was going on. The whole week - Cas dying and seeing his ghost, now seeing Eileen even though they saw her body - was starting to feel like a fever dream.

 

“Wait, what?” Eileen asks, standing up straighter, putting her beer aside.

 

“A couple of weeks ago we got a phone call from our police friend, Jody, saying she had a body. Your body.” Sam swallows back the sharp pain that image brings. Eileen laid out on a morgue and they had to treat it as another hunter’s death.

 

Frowning, Eileen folds her arms. Sam tries, helplessly, to stop thinking that everything she does is amazing. It doesn’t work.

 

“I was in a warehouse - some of those British men found my hideout on a case and took me there. They kept me locked up for a few days, and they brought a shifter in to touch my arm. I thought it was weird, but now I know why.” She nods, her brown hair falling into her face. Sam wants to reach out to push it behind her ears, and has to clench his fist so he doesn’t.

 

“So, what,” Dean asks in a confused voice. “They got a hellhound to attack a shifter dressed up as you? Why?”

 

“To hurt us.” Sam replies quietly. He looks down at his feet. “They knew how much Eileen meant to us, they must have done it to screw us up.” He sends a small smile at Eileen. “I knew that letter was bullshit.”

 

Eileen laughs in surprise. “They sent a letter? From me? I don’t write, I text.”

 

“Yeah! It didn’t sound like you at all.” Sam agrees, smiling back.

 

“How’d you get out?” Dean asks a little pointedly. Sam sends him a small glare but he is curious as well.

 

“How do you think?” Eileen raises her eyebrows, and lifts her hand to show them her grazed knuckles.

 

Sam and Dean glance at each other, impressed.

 

“Nice.” They say at the same time.

 

-

 

Of course Dean’s happy that Eileen’s back - he’s freaking thrilled - she’s a badass that’s got his little brother wrapped round her little finger. Which only like one in a million could do. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to hang out with her it’s just … Sam’s currently filling Eileen in on what she missed and Dean doesn’t really want to have to relive it all again.

 

Plus Sam keeps messing with his long hair, and every time he reaches up to fix it, Dean gets a little closer to getting scissors out and cutting it all off for him.

 

He pours himself another finger of whisker and knocks it back. He hisses slightly at the taste, drawing Sam and Eileen’s attention. They look a little surprised to see him still there - Dean doesn’t blame them.

 

“Sam, I’m going to see if Cas is up for talkin’.”

 

“Sure.” Sam nods in understanding - or to get Dean out of the room - but Eileen stops him.

 

“Wait, _Cas_? You told me he was dead!” She exclaimed, bewildered, looking back and forth between them.

 

_Wonder how Sam’s going to explain that us Winchesters have a habit of mysterious resurrections._

 

Amused with that idea, Dean hooks a thumb over his shoulder and turns for the garage. “I’ll leave that one with you, Sammy.”

 

-

 

He doesn’t bother turning on the garage lights, the alcohol was starting to get to him and any light source seemed ten times more bright.

 

He clambers into the Impala, and turns on the stereo. He could see this becoming the new normal, bringing a mixtape everywhere with him so Cas could talk to them.

 

As if he was summoned, Cas flickers into his field of vision.

 

“I miss your voice.” Dean blurts out, catching Cas off guard. “Sure, Plant and Page are good and all but … I miss _your_ voice.”

 

“ _Hey, hey, what can I do?_ ” Cas shrugs, looking just as annoyed as Dean felt. They could finally see each other - and knew that Cas was hanging around but they still couldn’t speak to each other properly.

 

“Maybe this is payback for all those times we got lost in miscommunication.” It would be the perfect irony. Take two people who kept messing up the others’ life because they couldn’t talk about it - now take away one of their ability to speak.

 

Cas’ cool hand settles on his cheek and Dean can’t help himself, he leans into the hand. He wishes they were warm instead of this drafty -

 

Wait a second.

 

Hands.

 

A lightbulb goes off in his head.

 

“Hey Cas, I just came up with a great idea.”

 

For some reason, Cas looks doubtful.

 

-

 

Dean wrings his hands together, stepping back into the library where Sam is still talking enthusiastically with Eileen. He feels so dirty about asking this.

 

How the hell does he even bring it up? _Hey so I know you just got escaped from being held captive by the British men of losers and all, but could you be a translator for me and my ghost pal? Thanks._

 

Somehow he didn’t think that would cut it.

 

His hesitation must be palpable, because Eileen looks over at him. “Dean?”

 

“Look, I feel so skeevy asking this but … I was talking to Cas and I had an idea. About how to communicate with him without using tapes all the time.”

 

Sam straightened up at that, turning more towards Dean. “You found something?” Dean nods slightly, looking directly at Eileen.

 

“I’m not sure how much you know but, our buddy Cas is hanging around as a ghost and we think we can get him back. We can’t hear him though, so he’s been talking to us through the radio.” He braces himself. “I’m the only one who can see him, which I know,” at Eileen’s doubtful look. “Sounds crazy, but it made me think. Do you … do you think you could interpret his signs for me?”

 

Sam stares at him with bug eyes, and swings his head round to Eileen who looks just as shocked.

 

“He knows sign language?”

 

Dean glances at Cas who looks quite smug, with his arms folded, smiling at Eileen. Dean rolls his eyes slightly.

 

“He’s told me he knows thousands.” He shuffles, slightly embarrassed. “On the other hand - the only other language I know is Latin, so. Sorry in advance if I mess this up big time.” He looks sharply at Eileen. “If you’re in, that is.”

 

Eileen looks slightly offended. “Of course! I want to meet this sign language angel in person, let’s do it.” Dean felt his shoulders sag in relief and sent a smile towards Cas.

 

“You ready?” He asks Cas, which startles Sam.

 

“How long has he been here?” Sam asks, looking spastically in the direction Dean was facing.

 

“Dude, c’mon. You’re supposed to be a hunter. Ghosts are like, level one on the hunting scale.” He ignores Sam’s question, and licks his lips in concentration. “Alright, here’s the deal. We ask a question, and Cas can answer by signing. I’ll sign to Eileen and then Eileen - you say what it is.”

 

“Oh great,” Sam drags a hand over his face. “We’re playing Telephone with a ghost now. As if this week couldn’t get any weirder.”

 

-

 

 

At first, they practise a few signs and it goes surprisingly well - even though Dean can see Eileen’s struggling to interpret whatever shapes his hands are making. He so wishes Sam was the one making a fool out of himself and not him.

 

“Alright, question time. Where are you?” Dean asks, watching Cas’ hands as they move rapidly. He barely has time to process one sign before Cas is onto the next one. “Uh, still a beginner here Cas. Go a little slower.”

 

Apparently it’s agony for Cas to go slowly, but their system still works and eventually Eileen get’s an answer.

 

“He’s in the veil, the one with ghosts.”

 

“Are you hurt?” Is the most pressing one on Dean’s mind. If he was, then they would need to heal him somehow when he got back. The fact he could even say that now with a gleam of actual hope was mindblowing.

 

Cas signs. Dean relates it to Eileen.

 

“No - but there _are_ monsters. They’re what’s affecting his communication with you. Cas is doing some pretty complex signs and I’m not sure how to translate it.” Eileen admits after a moment, and it’s met by Sam’s reassurances.

 

“Oh that’s fine Eileen. Is it completely untranslatable, or is there something it’s like?” He presses gently.

 

“He’s saying…. The veil has holes in it.” Her voice seems questioning, but Cas is nodding beside him so Dean listens in. “These holes are where he has strong connections on Earth, it’s how his ghost got through.”

 

“Why can’t Sammy and Eileen see you?” Dean asks in confusion. If there were holes in the veil, what made it that not all of them could see Cas? To his intrigue, Cas looks vaguely uncomfortable at him asking that.

 

Cas hooks his thumbs together like a chain. When Dean shows Eileen, she looks confused, and does the action herself until it looks more natural.

 

“Grace? Something to do with grace.”

 

Dean stiffens slightly. It couldn’t be - but Cas is looking pointedly at his shoulder.

 

“No way. It’s a grace bond.” Sam clarifies a little breathlessly from beside them. _I still have some of Cas’ grace in me._ Dean thought gleefully. This was good news. Dean saw how Sam had been pouring over those lore books earlier, there had to be something about using grace to bring Cas back.

 

“Is it possible to get you back?” Sam asks.

 

“Yes. There’s a … spell book ... here.” Eileen repeats, having to concentrate harder on Dean’s haphazard, now shaking, signs.

 

“We’ve got thousands, Cas, can you be a bit more specific?” Dean prompted. Cas turns away and his form starts to flicker the further as he distances himself. He ends up standing in front of a bookshelf a few feet away.

 

“Why did you stop signing?” Sam questions, but Dean is too busy watching Cas as his form flickers to a bookshelf, scanning the titles. He stops and points vigorously at one.

 

“He’s found something.” Dean replies, going over to pick up the heavy tome Cas had been pointing out. To Dean’s concern - it wasn’t an angel book. It was the book they’d taken from Rowena.

 

“Witchcraft?”

 

Impatiently, Cas makes a sign that Dean interprets as ‘open the damn book Dean’. He turns it open to the contents page, and watches Cas trace a finger down the page, searching. When he finds it, he jabs the page number urgently, and Dean flicks to the page.

 

**_UNION SPELL_ **

 

_This spell is used widely by witches to rejoin spirits to their hosts._

 

Underneath the picture is a diagram of a circle and a bunch of ingredients and how to mix them. Cas and Dean share an elated look. The ingredients were easy to get, and Dean was sure they had them in stock.

 

“Dean talk to us!” Sam reminded him from behind his shoulder, and Dean breaks his gaze with Cas to explain.

 

“Uh, this spell. The union spell - it can join a spirit and it’s host together.”

 

Sam scans the ingredients list. “Woah, hold on. It says we need the angels’ grace.” He bites his lip, looking at Dean in concern. “Dean, we don’t have any of Cas’ grace left.”

 

Cas settles a cold hand over the shoulder that still has his handprint on it.

 

“Yes, we do.” Dean replies gruffly. “That’s actually the one I know we have for sure. I’m not sure about the other stuff-” His eyes catch on a note at the end of the page.

 

_**NOTE:** If the union spell fails once -  do not repeat. The soul has been lost. _

 

He goes ice cold and for once it’s not because of Cas’ presence.

 

“Sam and I will go look in the stores for the ingredients.” Eileen states, motioning for Sam to pick up the tome. Like a big eager puppy, he scrambles after her, leaving Dean frozen in place.

 

“Cas, can I talk to you for a minute.” Without another word, he stalks as quickly as he can to the Impala and waits for the tell tale static to form. Cas is looking at him with concern but Dean can barely meet his eyes.

 

“Do you know,” Dean starts in a low tone, afraid that it’ll crack if he raises it any louder. “What’s going to happen if this spell fails?” He glances over at Cas, who’s sitting stiffly beside him.

 

With sad eyes Cas reaches for the stereo. Dean swallows harshly when “ _Babe, I’ll Be Leaving You_ ” starts to play. That confirms it then. If this spell went sideways - that was it.

 

No more Cas.

 

“Listen - I don’t mind if we spend the rest of time as Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore in Ghost, making pots together or whatever, as long as you’re _around_.” Dean can feel his heartbeat slowing. “You get that I can’t lose you. Right?”

 

Cas doesn’t meet his eyes, staring down at his hands. All Dean wants to do is reach out and shake him, and _make_ him understand.

 

“If it starts going bad, you tell us right away and we stop, got it?”

 

It’s not a question.

 

-

Sam drops the spell ingredients into a pile on the garage floor, Eileen following suit. It hadn’t taken long to find the ones they needed, and Dean said that he had some of Cas’ grace somewhere so they looked set to go.

 

“You’re smiling to yourself.” Eileen points out lightly.

 

A bit embarrassed, Sam tries to school his emotions.  “Yeah, guess I’m just excited.”

 

“It suits you. Smiling.” Eileen says, her eyes scanning over the witches spell, not looking at Sam. Which was great, because now he felt red as a tomato at that small compliment.

 

“I, um.” His stuttering makes Eileen turn towards him and _oh boy_ he wasn’t ready for those brown eyes to look back at him. “I’m smiling because of you, if that makes it any better.”

 

A shy look flutters across Eileens’ face. “Hmm, just me being here makes you smile?” Her lips turn up into a mischievous expression that makes Sam’s heart double in speed. “Well, I look forward to finding …  _other ways_ to make you smile.” The implication was there and Sam wouldn’t admit it, but it was probably the smoothest line he'd ever heard. 

 

Sam had been about to respond with something that _no doubtedly_ would have been just as smooth, when Dean clasps his shoulder roughly.

 

“Flirting comes after the resurrection, guys.”

 

Eileen laughs, and Sam spins towards his brother.

 

“We - uh - sorry. We got everything we need, except for the grace.” Sam looks expectantly at Dean, waiting for his brother to hand him a vial or a bottle, but he pulls out nothing of the sort. Frowning, Sam steps closer to him. “Dean? Where’s the grace? We need it for the spell.”

 

Dean glances up at him, then away. And that’s when Sam sees the grace extraction kit in his hand and goes numb.

 

“No - that almost killed me!” Sam protests, reaching out to snatch the box away. Dean moves it out of his grasp.

 

“Almost killed you. _Almost_ .” Man, Sam _hated_ his own words being thrown back in his face. “And it won’t be extracting everything, right? We only need a bit of it.”

 

“Dean … you can’t ask me to do that to you.” Even the idea of putting his brother through that amount of pain was sickening.

 

“Think about doing it _for_ me. For _Cas_.” Dean claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder again. “This is it, Sam. This is our chance to get him back.”

 

And how could Sam say no to that, when there was life in Dean’s eyes again.

 

-

 

“According to the diagram, Dean you need to be one side of Cas’ body and Cas’ spirit needs to be on the other.”

 

Sam tilts the page to make sure, but he thinks he’s got it down. They’d made the large white circle outline, and drawn three smaller ones in the centre. One was for Cas’ body - which had taken them what felt like years to get down to the garage - one for Dean, and the other for Cas’ ghost.

 

“It says ‘a connection must be held between the individuals’.” Sam repeats out loud, making sure Dean had this.

 

“Do I hold his hand?” Dean checks, kneeling down beside Cas.

 

“You made the guy a mixtape - I would’ve thought you were past the hand-holding stage at this point” Sam smirks.

 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Shut up, bitch.”

 

Dean kneels beside the body holding one hand, and Cas’ ghost kneels opposite him holding the other. Everything seems to be going well so far. He doesn’t want to jinx anything by hoping it will go well for them, so Dean keeps his trap shut.

 

Cas glances behind him, and starts signing something out.

 

“Oh - Eileen. He’s signing again.” Dean repeats the signs to her, and she looks concerned.

 

“He’s saying … the monster might follow him through the veils’ hole.”

 

“Crap. Just what we need.” Dean gets up to go get weapons, but is stayed by Cas’ urgent face. They didn’t have enough time to set everything up again if he left the circle. Kneeling back down, he looks at the only free person in the room, Eileen.

 

“Can you open up Baby’s trunk and just throw everything near the circle that we might need? Salt, demon knives, all that.”

 

“Sure thing.” Eileen agrees, and comes back moments later and empties a duffel bag onto the ground with everything Dean had asked for and more.

 

“You’re awesome.” Dean compliments, before catching Sam’s eye.

 

Sam nods at him - Dean nods at Cas.

 

It’s time.

 

Sam starts to repeat the few Latin words they needed, and Dean just tried to keep focusing on being calm and hoping that Cas wouldn’t flicker out before the ritual was done.

 

“Ready?” Sam asks in a murmur, the extraction needle close to Deans’ neck. Gritting his teeth, Dean gives a sharp nod.

 

It stung like _hell_. He tries not to scream, but he could feel the needle in his neck and his body wants to get away from it as fast as possible.

 

_For Cas, for Cas, for Cas._

 

“This should be enough.” Sam says after a few moments. Dean holds strong, until he feels the needle slide out. Out of his clenched eyes he can see that Cas is starting to distort.

 

“Now Sam, now!” He shouts as soon as the needle is out of his neck.

 

Sam moves around to Cas head and Dean watches as the spirit of Cas starts glancing behind him.

 

“Is there a monster there with you?”

 

Cas nods solemnly, a strong distortion warping his body.  

 

“ _Crap_. Hurry up Sam, I don’t think he’s got much time.”

 

“Dean the needle is stuck!” Sam shouts, trying to push the plunger to make the grace go into Cas’ vessel.

 

“What? Fucking push Sam he’s flickering out!”

 

“I’m trying! It’s stuck!”

 

“Try harder!” _No no no they couldn’t fail now, they were so close_. “Fuck this old equipment, damn it!”

 

Eileen raced to the edge of the circle, and starts pulling Sam’s jacket.

 

“Sam you need to get out of the circle - it’s not going to work with you in it. The old grace in you is affecting the ritual!” She pants, heaving on his jacket, and Sam and Dean share a bewildered glance.

 

There’s not time to check if she’s right or not, because Cas is a few second away from being gone forever.

 

“Go, move!” Dean shouts, waving his free hand at Sam until he’s safely out of the circle. Dean picks up the needle, _sorry Cas_ , and pushes the plunger down hard.

 

Grace pulses out from the needle directly into Cas’ neck.

 

Cas’ body convulses, arcing up - the blue grace makes his skin go from pale to a blinding white. Dean screws his eyes up, trying to see past the light to see if Cas’ ghost was still holding on. It gets so blinding that Dean has to turn his face away, and he can hear the static in the Impala going crazy.

 

Eventually, the light fades. Dean instantly looks down.

 

“Did it work?” Sam pants from outside the circle.

 

Cas’ body is still limp.

 

And the ghost of Cas is nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooo an evil cliffhanger - and sorry for adding a 4th chapter! this chapter got a bit out of hand and it seemed like the perfect time to break and continue on in the next one! D:  
> (also im not very well so sorry if the writing seems off my loves)
> 
> the 4th should be out fairly soon ;) in the meantime i love hearing your comments on this they seriously make my day! <3


	4. iv

“Give it another hour.” Dean pleads, but Sam just shakes his head with a pained look on his face.

 

“Dean, the spell said -”

 

“I _know_ what it said!” Dean snaps, finding it hard to breath. No. They can’t have lost Cas. Not again. He could feel his mind tearing in two. One half was pleading to give it more time, but the other was getting more insistent that it hadn’t worked and that Cas was gone for good.

 

His breath catches again. His vision goes white around the edges.

 

“Breathe, Dean. Can you hear me? You have to breathe.” Eileen’s voice seems distant, her hand resting tentatively on his shoulder. Dean has to stop himself from asking her to move because it’s not the hand he wants on him right now.

 

He wants Cas. He _had_ Cas. And now he was … gone.

 

Defeated, Dean slumps onto the floor, his knees giving way to the unbearable pressure in his head.

 

They could have made it work. Cas could have spoken to him through bad company jingles for the rest of their time together, and Dean would have taken it. And now they couldn’t even have that-  

 

**_BOOM_ **

 

A deafening roar of sound rings through his ears and he tears himself upright.  

 

_What. The. Fuck._

 

He can’t even comprehend what he’s seeing. A ginormous beast with drool and fangs is straining against the roof of the garage. A river of liquid streams down it’s round sides, like it’d just got out from a river, pooling around Dean’s feet. Dean notices with a swell of horror that its side is splitting apart to make long reaching tentacles.

 

It’s purple and huge and gross and Cas body is trapped underneath one of its oozing stems.

 

Either Dean’s eyes were tricking him or - Cas’ body was fighting back.

 

“ _CAS_ !?” Dean yells, but it gets swallowed by another roar, shaking him into action. Disorientated from the noise, he staggers his way towards the pile of weapons they’d brought just in case this happened. But they were expecting like a vampire sized monster not _this_! He’s beginning to fear that none of their weapons would work against this …. Beast.

 

Movement must draw the Beasts’ attention, because a feeler/arm/gross tentacle comes flying out towards him. He barely has time to duck and roll, and hears a yelp of pain from behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees that Sam and Eileen have been suckered to the wall.

 

“Sam!” He calls out in panic, watching his brother fight against the arm that’s making it’s way up his throat. Frozen solid, he looks back and forth between Cas (possibly alive?) and Sam (possibly dying?)

 

“Go - Cas.” Sam chokes out, making the choice for him. Dean spins around, narrowly missing another swipe from the Beast and scrambles his way towards the weapons pile.

 

He’s lunging for a demon blade, when a sticky arm grabs him around his waist and lifts him high up into the air. Dean feels the air rushing around him as he’s thrown to the ground next to Cas, all the air knocked from his lungs. Suddenly, he knows how it feels to be an ant getting stepped on.

 

The Beast roars, hot and gross, in his face and it smells like a thousand landfill sites at once. Movement from beside him catches his eye and _holy shit it is Cas._

 

Cas is alive. He’s here. For real. Dean can see his chest rising and falling from the effort of fighting back against the monster. He feels the pressure on his own chest increase, like the creature is dropping its’ weight onto him.

 

“Dean!” Cas yells beside him, his eyes wide. There’s fear there which, yeah, understandable. “The angel blade! Get the angel blade!”

 

It’s hopeless.

 

The angel blade is across the room outside of the circle, surrounded by all the other weapons. There was no way in hell he could reach it.

 

A stupid, dumb lightbulb goes off in his head.

 

It probably won’t work but the air is currently getting squeezed out of his head, so it’s worth a shot.

 

He flings out a hand towards the angel blade, and tries to pull it mentally towards him.

 

Nothing.

 

He concentrates harder, and feels something tug in his body like he’d pulled a muscle. The angel blade rolls towards him slightly. Sure, it could be the monster making it move, but he has a feeling -

 

He chokes as the last of his air vanishes and - the angel blade comes soaring towards his hand.

 

Fumbling with it for a moment, he swings out against the Beasts’ grip on his throat. The blade slices cleanly through the monsters’ flesh and more strange dark liquid starts oozing out along with a white blinding light. He slashes at the arm - the pressure in his head mounting unbearably - until finally it rears back, leaving him gasping for air.

 

“Cas!” He croaks, and gathers enough strength to fling the blade at the arm holding Cas down. It swerves off course and sinks straight into the Beasts’ body. The creature yells in pain, retreating backwards and pulling it’s stems from Cas as it goes. Cas gasps, staggering to his feet. He holds out his hand and the angel blade sails from the creature side and halts mid air. It makes a sudden twirl and slams hard into a dark pulsing veiny thing that Dean can only assume to be it’s heart.

 

It screeches in agony, combusting into a brilliant white light.

 

Dean hears Sam and Eileen gasping from where they had been let go as well.

 

“Dude,” Dean pants towards the ceiling, a hand resting on his chest which was thanking him dearly for the clean air. “I totally _Star Wars_ ’ed that bitch!” He laughs in glee, his hand still tingling from where the angel blade had flown towards his hand like a lightsaber.

 

A deep chuckle next to him makes him spin round so fast that he gets dizzy.

 

_He’s alive._

 

“Cas!” He cries out, racing across the short distance to him. He’s hunched over, holding his side carefully. Dean drops to his knees beside him, and roughly pulls Cas towards him. Cas grunts a little as his side pulls and it’s the most beautiful sound Dean has ever heard.

 

“Hello, Dean.”

 

He’s overwhelmed by everything about Cas right now - he smells like burning electricity, and too hot to the touch. But it’s perfect over the cold stone he had been an hour ago. Dean keeps one hand on Cas’ neck and feels his heart swell at the steady pulse, throbbing reassuringly under his fingertips.

 

“Oh God, Cas, you’re _back_.”

 

Warm arms wrap around him, clenching tight to his shirt.

 

Cas breathes onto his neck and holds Dean closer than he ever thought possible. If Dean had to class it, the hug would be in the top range of ‘ _I thought I’d never see you again_ ’ and _‘Never let me go. Ever._ ’

 

It feels like hours when Cas carefully pulls back - his stupid heart hurts at even _that_ small distance between them - and holds Deans’ face in his warm (warm!) palms.

 

“Dean,” Cas speaks lowly, his blue eyes intense and nothing could compel Dean to look away. Cas’ thumb soothes over his cheek and Dean leans desperately into the touch. “When I was in the veil there’s … something I wanted to tell you.” He casts his eyes away, as if shamefully. Dean can feel his heart slow, all his attention on Cas.

 

Shaking slightly, Dean tucks a hand under Cas’ chin, turning his face so their eyes meet again.

 

“Say it, Cas.” He’s barely breathing, his heart climbing up his throat in anticipation.

 

Cas gazes at him intensely, his hands falling from his cheeks to his neck, and Dean is aching for him to say something. Anything.

 

“I don’t want you to think less of me,” Cas confesses in the same low tone. Dean covers his hands with his own, leaning closer.

 

“I won’t Cas, promise.” He smooths a thumb over Cas’ knuckles, and Cas lets out a relieved sigh.

 

His hands drop to Dean’s shoulders and gives him a short, firm shake.

 

“I never want to listen to a Led Zeppelin song _ever_ again in my _life_ , Dean.”

 

A beat.

 

Dean bursts out into laughter, near crying with it. Cas just looks so damned serious. Grinning, he pulls Cas closer again - and feels Cas smile against his neck.

 

“For you Cas, we can burn the entire Zepp collection.”

 

-

 

While Dean and Eileen had gotten off relatively unscatched by the Beast’ exploding into a horrible mess, Cas and Sam got the full brunt of it.

 

Which means Dean get’s to witness the most amazing scene - Sam body tackling Cas into a hug, their looks of relief and joy turning to disgust when they realise their jackets were sticking together with a horrid squelching sound. Eileen gets a good laugh in over it as well, before they pry the poor guys apart.

 

“Only just met you and I’m already having to wrestle you off Sam,” Eileen teases Cas. “We’re not going to have any issues, are we?” Sam huffs a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

Cas signs something back, quick enough that Dean barely registers he got pointed at and feels Eileen’s gaze flickers over to him, like she finally understands something.

 

“Got it.” She says to Cas, giving him a thumbs up.

 

“Cas - what the hell was that man?” Sam asks in a rush, like the question had been bubbling under his skin ever since the Beast got vaporized.

 

“I’ll answer any questions you have,” Cas assures him, looking down at his tan jacket covered in purple ooze. “After we get this off us.”

 

Sam takes the chance to sniff his own jacket and reels back at the smell. “Oh yea, definitely. Follow me.” He waves Cas after him, towards the garage door back into the bunker. Dean realises that both him and Eileen had taken a step after them, and they share an embarrassed smile.

 

Dean tries to stop feeling that taking his eyes off Cas means he’ll disappear.

 

“Looks like we should clean up too,” Dean says, gesturing to the streak of goo on Eileen's jacket. “C’mon.”

 

-

 

It’s a physical strain to restrain himself from following Cas to the showers. He watches as Sam and Cas, laughing and talking, head there together and feels his stomach clench. He doesn’t _need_ to be there. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t _want_ to be.

 

He needs to do something to stop his feet going where his heart wants to go.

 

That’s how he ends up scrubbing down the kitchen with a fierce intensity that seems to amuse Eileen. She watches him clean up the plates scattered around the kitchens, that had been left in the midst of research and depressed moping, scrubbing the stain out of her jacket by the sink.

 

The room is full of that feeling where there are unanswered questions, and both people are holding their tongues. Deans’ about to turn Eileen towards him before realising she’s already looking at him, jacket forgotten. Seems they both had the same idea.

 

“What did Cas say to you just then?” Dean asks just as Eileen asks, “Are you together?”

 

Dean clatters the plates onto the counter. “W-what, no! Why would you think that?” If it was obvious to her, who’d just met Cas _that day_ , then it was hopeless that Cas hadn’t noticed by now. God, was he _that_ transparent!?

 

Eileen shrugs lightly. “When I joked about keeping him away from Sam, he said he already had a claim on a Winchester. You.”

 

Dean heart flutters dangerously. He blinks stupidly for a moment, his mind whirling with what that meant. Did it mean anything? Cas probably just meant the literal grace claim he had on him. Yeah, he shouldn’t look too deep into it.

 

He rolls his eyes. “He’s a literal son of a bitch. Probably means this grace bond he’s got with me.”

 

Eileen drops her head, a frown creasing her temple. “Okay, that’s my bad then. I just - well. It doesn’t matter. It explains how his angel blade flew to you as well.” She waves her hand around, as if brushing off the conversation to Dean’s eternal gratitude.

 

“Y-yeah, guess it does.” He turns to the fridge and reaches in to get drinks for them, basking in the rush of relief Eileen dropping the topic.

 

There’s a patter of feet coming down the hallway.

 

“Dean?” Cas voices from the kitchen doorframe and Dean nearly drops all four beers at how weak his knees go in shock. He turns to say something cool and platonic like ‘ _what’s up buddy_ ’ and his jaw almost drops to the floor when he realises Cas is standing in just a towel slung low on his waist - Dean glances in panic at Eileen who’s grinning and not so subtly taking glances at _wow_. Ok. Newsflash, Cas has muscles.

 

Dean swallows. “What is this, a peep show? Get some clothes on.” He says briskly and hopes to anyone out there still listening no one heard his voice hitch slightly.

 

“That’s what I was going to ask about.” Cas says, all innocent like he wasn’t standing nearly buck naked in Deans’ kitchen “The clothes I died in don’t smell very good, especially after the monster attacked us.” That was a sentence Dean never thought he’d hear, ever.

 

Cas looks expectantly at him, and he catches on quick. “Oh, right. There’s some spare … stuff, in my room. Just grab whatever and come to the library when you’re done.” Cas nods and starts walking down the hallway, and Dean does a small run after him before he can stop himself

 

“You, um. Want any food or anything? Drink?” Cas looks amused, and shakes his head fondly.

 

“I’m fine, thank you.”

 

Dean barely refrains from spluttering out ‘ _you’re damn right_ ’, watching him walk away. He sighs gently, leaning on the kitchen doorframe just looking at Cas. Walking. Talking. _Alive_.

 

“Yeah,” Eileen huffs from behind him, shaking him out of the fond smile he’d been sharing with an empty hallway. “You’re not together.”

 

-

 

Sam joins them at the library table moments later, taking his beer into his hand and his place beside Eileen.

 

“What you just witnessed,” Cas starts with no preamble. “Is called a ‘Thevshi míol mór’. It originated in-”

 

“Ireland.” Eileen finishes, seeming a bit shocked by herself. “They were creatures rumored to live in the veil between life and death, but I thought they were just a myth.”

 

“Jeez. I remember when the worst thing I thought your country had was leprechauns.” Dean mutters, taking a swig from his beer. “Why was it after you?”

 

“They hunt anything ‘unnatural’ in the veil. I had some leftover grace, which typical ghost do not have, so they were going to dissolve me.”

 

“Ghost? So you actually died, for real?” Dean asks, tightening his hand around his bottle.

 

“Yes.” Cas replies solemnly. Dean twists his face away so no one can see his eyes glisten slightly.

 

“I’m sorry man,” Sam says with a deep regret in his voice. “I didn’t think angels got ghosts when they died. I would have searched into veil stuff sooner if I’d know.”

 

“It’s not your fault Sam.” Cas soothes instantly making Sam’s shoulders drop in relief. “Generally, angels don’t. I must have gotten a soul when I spent time on Earth as a human, and that’s why I kept around.”

 

Dean tenses, thinking that over. If Cas hadn’t lost his grace for that short time, he could be utterly gone by now. His grace would have disappeared back into the universe and Cas would have been gone.  

 

Instead, somehow through sheer luck, Castiel - the _angel_ \- had died. Cas - the awkward, slightly more than human, dude with a bit of grace left over - lives on.

 

“I’ve never been so thankful for a Gas ‘n’ Sip in my life.” Dean chokes out honestly, holding Cas’ gaze for a few moments. He aches desperately to touch Cas in someway, and settles for patting his shoulder. Except the pat lingers a moment too long, and Cas looks down at his hand.

 

Dean feels his heart thud loudly as Cas curves his fingers around his for a moment, before he pulls away.

 

Clearing his throat, he gestures around the table. “Well, now the knights of the shitty lives are back together, we can get this Lucifer Jr and Mom stuff sorted out.” He looks over at Eileen and hesitates. She’d been a massive help to getting Cas back, and Dean had thanked her profoundly in the kitchen, and of course she could leave and do her own thing again.

 

But there was something about how she’d settled into their group dynamic like she belonged there all along that. Dean kinda didn’t want to let her go. “Would… would you want to help out with that?” He asks cautiously.

 

Eileen brightens up at the offer. “Sure! Besides, there’s still a Winchester I haven’t met yet.”

 

Sam laughs heartily. “Pretty sure if you’re determined enough, you could bring back our entire family tree.”

 

“Say the words and I’m on it.” Eileen says, taking a sip of beer calmly. “There’s a few cases up in Maine I want to finish up before I commit to anything, though.” She looks slyly in Sam’s direction. “I could use some help on them.”

 

Sam’s nodding, looking utterly absorbed in peeling the label off his bottle. Dean feels a pang of pity for him. _Dumb son of a bitch doesn’t know a miracle when it happens_.

 

Cas sits up. “Well, I’m sure we could-”

 

He stomps on Cas’ foot who, blessedly, doesn’t react more than to clench his jaw and frown at Dean. He shoots him an apologetic look. _Sam needs this_.

 

“Sammy why don’t you help out?”

 

“What?” Sam asks, going pale.

 

“Yeah, we don’t have to start right this second. It might be good for you to get back out there, try on the training wheels again.” Dean can practically see Sams’ mind melting over this.

 

“S-sure. Who knows it might be related to the nephilim stuff.” Sam agrees, taking a hefty sip of beer and Dean knows, because he knows Sam, that he isn’t red in the face from the alcohol.

 

“You could do that while me and Cas start searching here for ways to get Mom back from bizzaro world.” Dean suggests further, which gets him an odd look from everyone.

 

“You’re volunteering yourself for research?” Cas asks in surprise. Dean shrugs amenably.

 

“Could do with the rest.”

 

“I’m sure.” Sam huffs, casting a glance between him and Cas. But all Dean has to do is give him the same look for him and Eileen, and it has Sams’ head ducking in seconds.

 

“Alright, me and Sam can discuss the case up in Maine for a bit. What are you going to do?” Eileen asks politely, already getting to her feet.

 

Dean glances over at Cas, the same question on his mind. _What do you want to do?_

 

Cas drops his eyes to his hands, then back to Dean. “There’s that … thing you promised me.”

 

Dean frowns, taking a minute to catch up. Oh. _Oh_.

 

“You want to do that now?” His eyebrows raise in surprise. “It’s late, you sure you’re not too tired?”

 

“Do what?” Sam asks, looking between them in confusion.

 

“Just a thing I promised Cas a while back. Said I’d let him drive the Impala.” Dean says smoothly. It wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the entire truth. Letting him drive Baby was a bonus for him, in order to get something else. “Fine.” He sighs, digging the car keys out of his pocket and throwing them towards Cas. “I’ll get the stuff, you go pull her out front.”

 

Cas scampers off, passing Eileen who’s on her way towards the bunkers rooms, looking gleeful as anything. Dean smiles after him, standing slowly. Sam looks like Santa just hand delivered him the best present in the world.

 

“A thing, huh.” The bastard is biting his lip trying to look serious.

 

“Yeah, a thing. Not a big deal.”

 

“Of course it’s not.” Sam agrees cheekily. His face softens slightly. “Were you serious?”

 

“About what?”

 

“Are you really going to burn your Zepp albums for him?”

 

Dean snorts. “Hell no.”

 

He hears the Impala’s horn honking outside, making them both turn towards the door.

 

“Someone’s eager.” Sam teases, as Dean drains the rest of his beer. He nods towards where Eileen had disappeared down the hallway.

 

“Yeah. _Someone_ is.” Dean laughs as Sam flushes and slaps his shoulder - the horn beeps again.

 

“That’s my cue.”

 

-

There’s something about cruising down the empty Kansas roads at night with Cas by his side at the wheel that feels on the good side of magical.

 

“Can’t believe you talked me into this.” Dean mutters, rolling down the window on his side. He trusted Cas with his life, of course he did, but trusting him with Baby was a whole other ball park.

 

Cas laughs and gives a gentle shrug. “Hey, you promised me.” And Dean had.

 

It’d been a while ago now. They’d sat outside the bunker, shooting the shit, and just talking about what they wanted to do at some point in the future. No time limit, just, somewhere in the future. Dean doesn’t know how they got onto the topic, but he knows that hearing Cas’ hopeful tone about this moment had filled his own heart with determination for Cas to have that.

 

And here they were.

 

“I know, I know.” Dean rolls his eyes. “I meant I can’t believe you talked me into this _now_ , of all times. Don’t you feel, y’know-?” He leaves a gap, honestly not sure where Cas was at emotionally.

 

“Like a reanimated zombie?” Cas offers, putting on the turn signal like a respectable citizen even though there wasn’t anybody around for miles. “Admittedly I do feel a little rough, but I didn’t want to spend a moment inside anymore. Time in the veil works similarly to the time in Hell - every minute here was an hour there.”

 

Dean does the calculation in his head.  “You were out cold for like two days, so that’s….” He frowns, counting on his fingers and comes to a horrid realisation. “Cas-”

 

“I know.” Cas tightens his grip on the Impala’s wheel.

 

“That’s nearly _120 days_ ! That’s a third of a year!” Dean doesn’t mean to yell but _what the fuck_. “But-but I saw you with Sam ten minutes apart! There’s no way that could have been-”

 

“Ten hours? Yes, it was. Ten painful hours, not knowing if you would still be where the veil hole was when I could reconnect with you.” Cas shoots a mournful glance over at Dean. “It was infuriating, Dean. I’d wait hours and only get minutes to talk to you.”

 

“And I thought you were a vision for most of your visits.” Dean shuts his eyes, feeling the guilt flush through him. Cas had been trying to contact him in those precious few minutes, where Dean assumed he was seeing things instead of thinking like a _goddamn hunter_ , only for Cas to be surrounded by those Beasts’ for 180 hours between each visit. An entire week of running from those creatures just for Dean to brush it off on the alcohol and grief.

 

He feels sick.

 

“If it helps to understand, that’s why I don’t want to listen to Led Zeppelin anymore.” Cas smiles over and Dean laughs a little brokenly.

 

“How did that work anyway?”

 

“I had the tape memorised already,” Cas explains like it wasn’t _A Thing_ to remember all the lyrics to a tape Dean had made him. “And had to skip to songs that had the words I needed in it. Unfortunately for us, Plant and Page aren’t the best at using their words.” He huffs a laugh, and Dean just stares at him from the passenger seat.

 

“Yeah,” He swallows. “I’m starting to feel like we’re the same.”

 

Cas waits until they get a flat stretch of road, before looking over at Dean who hadn’t manage to look away yet. Gently, with some hesitation, he rests a hand on Dean’s knee.

 

“We’ve got time to work on that.” He murmurs gently.

 

-

 

Eventually, Cas pulls over into a wide open field and parks the Impala neatly. Far out from the city pollution, thousands of stars dot the sky like freckles.

 

This was what Cas had mentioned. He wanted to drive the Impala, and watch the stars with Dean - at the time, he had thought it was in an educational way. Y’know, brag to him that he had walked among those constellations once. But after that car ride, he felt the vibe change to something less educational and more …. _Educational_.

 

He turns round and grabs a beer from the cooler in the back seat, before heading round to the front of the Impala.

 

Dean perches on the hood and Castiel joins him. His heart’s pounding and he can’t help it. He pushes himself back so that he’s leaning against Babys’ front window, looking at the stars for a moment.

 

“God… it’s beautiful.” Dean murmurs, stunned at how clear the sky was tonight. Cas hums lightly beside him and Dean to turn towards him. _You are too_. His mouth aches to say, seeing how the starlight made every feature on Cas stand out.

 

Maybe it’s cheesy but…. the entire universe is right above them and he can’t take his eyes off of Cas.

 

Cas smiles at him, and slides off the hood for a moment.

 

“Where you going?” Dean asks curiously, leaning his head back as Cas goes into the Impalas’ cab. Out of his sight, Dean frowns and makes to get up just as Cas returns, a light thrum of rock music following him. Not loud enough to smother their words, but enough that it makes Baby’s roof pulse with sound and vibrates their legs.

 

Dean laughs. “Thought you never wanted to listen to Zepp again?” He teases Cas, who settles back in next to him. Their elbows brush every now and then.

 

“It’s got … a special place in my heart.” Dean’s eyes widen slightly. _Since I’ve Been Loving You_ was special to Cas?

 

“And,” Cas smirks, tilting his head back to look at the stars. “I thought it was appropriate.”

 

That low ache returns full force. Dean flushes, and takes a long sip of beer.

 

“What, um.” He swallows, feeling pinned under the way Cas’ was looking at him. “What makes it special then?”

 

_'Cause I love you, baby_

_How I love you, darling_

_How I love you, baby_

 

Cas arches an eyebrow, voice rumbling and low and it sets a fire in Dean. “I thought it was pretty clear.” Dean doesn’t respond, scratching the back of his neck, avoiding Cas’ intense gaze.

 

It’s happening and his blood is on fire and it’s terrifying in the best way.

 

“Truth is, Dean.” Cas sighs, waiting until Dean cautiously looks back up at him. “I’ve been trying to find the perfect song to play to make you understand. Unfortunately, there isn’t a song called _I Love You, Dean Winchester_.” Dean stares at him, wide eyed and red in the face. Cas holds his gaze. “I was hoping you could help me with the lyrics.”

 

Dean lets out a self deprecating laugh. “That might take a while.” Cas’ hand trails down his arm and rests over his hand.

 

“I can wait.” Cas states simply, like that isn’t the grandest statement you could make. Dean stares at him in disbelief.

 

_Cas would wait … until I love myself?_

 

Everything starts to hit Dean at once. He’s on the hood of his Baby listening to a Zepp frickin’ love song, and his recently undead best friend is holding his hand under the stars after saying he _fucking loves him_ and wants him to love himself. His throat closes up.

 

If he had any real decency as a human he’d turn Cas away and send him to find another guy, girl, whatever.

 

Quickly, he places his beer on the ground and goes to stand in front of Cas who’s laying back on the Impalas’ hood.

 

Thankfully, they’ve already established he’s a selfish bastard and the endless universe above them is screaming at him to not let this chance go.

 

He holds out his hand to Cas, who slides their palms together easily, and pulls him towards his body and off the hood. He doesn’t drop their hands, his chest stuttering at the minimal distance between them. And he wants that distance gone like, lightyears ago.

 

“You - I - _we’ve_ waited long enough, don’t you think?” One of his hands trails to Cas’ hip, and tugs him closer. He doesn’t make the move though, his eyes fixed on Cas who doesn’t seem intent on moving anytime soon either.

 

Cas curves one arm around Deans’ back, pressing their foreheads together with a light laugh that makes his entire body tingle.

 

“I wasn’t going to mention it.”

 

“Bet you’re glad you did now then, huh?” Dean smiles, his thumb rubbing circles into Cas’ hip and he wants them to trace every part of Cas.

 

_He’s alive. He’s here. He loves me._

 

“The best decision I’ve ever made.” Cas breathes into the thin space.

 

“Amen to that.” Dean murmurs before finally, _finally_ , the gap closes between them.

 

Every thought Dean had about anything ever blinks into non existence, the moment Cas’ lips meet his.

 

Dean’s legs turn to dust, and he leans further into Cas who holds his weight and Dean’s reminded again - this is real. Whenever Cas brushes a hand across his neck and face, the heat reminds Dean. Cas is _alive_ . He’s _here_ . He _loves me_.

 

Afraid of barreling Cas with his weight, Dean spins them gently so that he’s leaning against Baby’s hood. It ends up being his best idea _ever_ , because Cas crowds in between his legs, a hand heavy and hot on his thigh.

 

“Cas,” Dean breathes between kisses. His mind is blank and all that keeps him from thinking this is a dream is when their lips meet again and again. “I - fuck. Love you.” He pants, and Cas draws back to smirk at him.

 

“Poetic.”

 

“Shut it, dumbass.” Dean grins, and twists his fingers into Cas’ black mess of hair, pulling him closer again.

 

Cas falls willingly, his hands resting warm and light on Dean’s chest - over his heart.

 

Where it belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *roll credits*  
> thank you so much for reading this story everyone who stuck to the end! :D I'd love to hear what you thought about this story in general, and if you had any fav parts! 
> 
> Also - I'm planning to expand on this sam/eileen case in Maine that can be read side by side with a dean/cas story of them in the bunker working through some ... stuff ;) let me know if you're interested in it!
> 
> thanks again for your support with this story. have a nice day! <3


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